


Sleeping At Last

by plinys



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, Femslash February Trope Bingo, Five Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 07:57:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3439523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Angie and Peggy shared a bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping At Last

**Author's Note:**

> For the "five times" square on my bingo cardSl

1

The first night in their new _home_ when it happens.

Angie had just gotten off the phone with her mother, and had prompted fallen into one of her new larger than life beds.

She was still high on life, unable to really believe all this is happening.

Learning that Peggy was a spy had seemed like a lot easier to swallow compared to learning that she was going to be living rent free in what seemed to literally be the Hollywood mansion of her dreams transported straight to New York.

A phone in every room, beds so plush it felt like laying on pillows, and a view to grand she could see the whole city laying out before her.

But that wasn’t the part that made it a _dream_.

What made it a dream was that Angie would be living here alone, no she was sharing this palace with one of the best girls in town – if not the entire world.

“Peggy,” she says, calling out to the other woman who had been no so subtlety lurking in the door way, “come join me.”

Angie patted the space next to her, before reaching a hand out in Peggy’s direction.

The other woman only hesitated for a second, “I’m not sure I want to be doing that, who knows what’s happened on that bed.”

“Well, I’m sure Mr. _Fancy_ had the sheets washed,” Angie insists, “now come on, seriously, English, these beds feel like a cloud.”

“We should be unpacking,” Peggy reminds her, but she toes off her shoes all the same, and lays down beside Angie a moment later.

“Nap first, unpacking later,” she replies, tugging Peggy closer to her in a way that is just meant to be friendly, before falling asleep.

When she wakes hours later, the sun has set, and Peggy’s disappeared as well, but she tries not to be too disappointed by that.

 

2

Simply put, she’s not used to having so much space.

The apartment she’d grown up in had housed at least eight people at any given time, and even when she’d finally gotten her own room at the Griffith, there had still always been other girls around to keep her company when she wanted it and even when she didn’t.

It had been hectic, certainly, but there was also something comforting about always having people around, of hearing voices murmuring late in the night, and the sound of the street below.

As much as she liked the new place, it was just too quiet.

Which was probably why their first week in the mansion, she’d hardly gotten a wink of sleep any of the nights.

This was quickly becoming a problem, judging by the frown on her acting coach’s face and the fact that she had nearly dropped her tea cup the morning only for her literal spy roommate to catch it just in time to avoid shattering.

Something had to be done about her inability to sleep, and that something led her straight to Peggy’s door.

She knocks softly, because she may be awake, but there’s no need to give Peggy a rude awakening.

“You up, English?”

There’s a playful response of, “now I am,” from the other side of the door, and for a second Angie feels slightly guilty, until Peggy actually opens the door. Certainly she’s dressed in her robe, but her hair looks far too nice for somebody that’s been asleep, and the lamp upon her desk is still lit.

“Working at this hour?”

“It’s nothing,” Peggy says, “just some last minute revisions.”

Angie shoots Peggy one of her practiced ‘no nonsense’ looks before saying, “it’s settled then.”

“What’s settled?”

“We’re going to bed,” Angie explains, “right now, you’re turning off that light and joining me under the covers for at least a few hours of rest.”

“I thought you wanted to talk, or-“

“No, no, no, you don’t get to object to this one.”

3

“Hey, Peggy.”

The other woman freezes, caught in the act, she turns over her shoulder to give Angie a sympathetic look. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Angie just shrugs her shoulders. It’s probably not worth mentioning that she was already awake, and that in fact she hadn’t been able to sleep much at all for the past few days. Things had gotten better since they’d moved in, she was able to make it through a night without feeling too put off by the lack of noise.

But then Peggy had left to some unannounced pat of the world as part of her work, and suddenly the whole place had felt ten times emptier than before.

She’s hugging Peggy without even realizing it, murmuring “missed you,” as though that was the whole of it.

It isn’t, not at all.

And she’s certain that Peggy senses that, as her arms come up to hug Angie as well, echoing her words with a “I missed you too.”

They stay like that for what seems like a while until Peggy wobbles a bit on the heels that she had yet to take off. When Angie pulls back to help steady her, Peggy shoots her an apologetic look.

“I’m a bit exhausted,” Peggy admits after a moment, “but if you’d like, I could change into my robe, then we could lay down and you could tell me everything I missed this past week.”

“You know, English, that sounds perfect.”

She doesn’t mind in the slightest that Peggy falls asleep within two minutes of them talking, her words drifting off into mumbles and then nothingness, because with the familiar weight beside her, Angie follows her into dreamland shortly after.

 

4

“I think you might have had a bit too much to drink.”

“Nonsense,” Angie insists, “I’m perfectly fine.”

She tries to stand up to prove it, but her legs seem to be objecting to the sudden movements, so she sits back down on the bed with a huff.

“We’re celebrating,” she insists then, since moving isn’t an option, “you can’t have too much to drink when you’re celebrating!”

It’s her first _real_ role. When she had told Peggy, the other woman had insisted on breaking out a bottle of brandy curtesy of the previous tenant of this luxurious mansion. Then they had moved onto wines with vintages that hardly seemed real, and well she might have had a bit too much to drink.

Especially since the current thought running through Angie’s head wasn’t anything to do with acting, but rather how lovely her housemate looked with the moonlight shining down upon her curls from an open window.

“You’re really pretty, Peggy.”

“You said that before.”

“Have I,” Angie asks, and she can’t exactly remember it’s been one of those nights, “you needed to hear it again.”

“I see.”

“Oh, and Peggy.”

“Yes, Angie.”

There’s something she wants to say, something important, something she’s been meaning to say for a while, but the words aren’t going to come out right tonight, so she keeps them down, and instead says, “you don’t mind if I sleep here tonight, do you? I might have had a bit too much of that brandy.”

“Not at all.”

 

5

When it finally happens it’s the best damn thing in the entire world.

“Why hadn’t we done that sooner,” Angie asks, breathless, her cheeks still flushed in the aftermath.

Peggy has this little laugh, so sweet and kind, her voice wavering ever so slightly when she answers, “honestly, I’d wish you said something sooner, all those nights having you in my bed and not doing anything, was unbearable.”

“Guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time?”

“That we shall.”


End file.
